St. Petersburg’s Microcosmos, as the name might suggest, is much more than a label. It is a community of impressive size, whose core mission is the staging of chillout, downtempo, and ambient performances. These take place both in urban settings and in the great Russian outdoors, where nature’s unhurried operations offer a fecund, yet suitably hushed backdrop.

One recent and representative recording from Microcosmos is shown here; a compilation involving two FFM artists, Aedem and Astronaut Ape. On prior occasions, the former artist has promised listeners "an unforgettable psychedelic trip. It'll be beautiful, mysterious, and exciting. Take a journey through finely interwoven sound-structures... to the inner depths of your soul." That melodramatic turn of phrase - again with recourse to metaphors of depth or profundity - at least speaks to the zeal with which departure is sought. Peace, calm, and some form of "profound" insight are all lacking in quotidian experience. The daily grind is a paltry realm indeed.

The latter artist (Oleg Belousev) even dresses an an astronaut on stage, bringing these cosmic fantasies closer to reality.

The Siberian figure known simply as Yuka is something of a legend in Russian techno. What remains surprising, therefore, is that she spends relatively little time in Russia itself. A woman whose career forms a soundtrack to post-socialist industry would rather be in India. Why the growing disconnect?

Firstly, Yuka's hometown of Bratsk - a local industrial center - is probably more famous for what it dumps than what it makes; in the recent past it was listed as one of the thirty most polluted cities in the world. The political climates of Moscow and St. Petersburg do not improve matters. And so she writes this month:

“No! None of this is for me... Life within a state, within a system. Life at work or inside an apartment. None of it. I suffocate inside that vicious circle. Sometimes even music won’t help. I need the hills, the forest, the ocean..! I’m a savage at heart. I simply don’t like civilization, which lets one person persecute another. Everybody suffers within ‘civilization.’ Borders, visas, dividing lines, conflict, and terror. I don’t see how technological progress makes us any happier.”

Indian nature is a quieter, more peaceful and productive form of industry.

These common desires for peace and quiet are extended in the newest work of Doyeq: Sergei Kulikov (aka Sergey Tutty) and Vitaly Bragin ("Noname"). By way of quick illustration, one German magazine recently reported: "Doyeq's dub techno tracks float effortlessly between techno and house registers. Their vastness and abundance seem almost endless. These compositions are perfect for a morning spent dreaming... or for simply going with the flow."

“His piano and synthesizer melodies move as gently, and seemingly without purpose, as a mobile in still air. Simultaneously wistful and beatific, everything is emotionally open-ended, and it makes for an ideal mood-enhancer, at least for the listener in a reflective headspace. If only any airport on earth were like this; the image it evokes—of patient, optimistic travelers gliding soundlessly along moving walkways while sun falls across gleaming surfaces of aluminum and glass—seems unlikely to be made real in our lifetimes.”

From the fading echo of Soviet factories to Indian beaches or a psychedelic trip, desire acknowledges its “unlikely” relationship with reality. Dreams are unlikely to come true. No matter how quiet things get.